Fulham FC vs. Leicester City
“For your dreams be tossed and blown”
… as Rodgers and Hammerstein noted, in 1945. And as Gerry sang in 1963 (a momentous year!) long before any of them had had their pacemakers installed. And as Duncan Laurence also sang in the interval before vote casting, at this weekend’s Eurovision Song Contest, with the help of a large, multi-coloured, multi-located and diverse “choir”. It should come as no surprise that a song expressing such a sentiment has become an unofficial anthem of football fandom.
Yes, as that subtitle above implies, football is a harsh mistress. So, this week, your all-seeing, almighty Football Pharaoh reflects deeply on the meaning of football, friendship, life and everything. As usual. You’re welcome. Clue: and it’s NOT 42, regardless of what you may have heard elsewhere!
So go get yourself an ample serving of your preferred beverage and take a pew, as you and I focus primarily on the English Premier League for a while. Why? Because we’ve reached “The Sharp End” of business there, at the top end of my football "pyramid". And because last weekend I met up with a former Guinness colleague (and fellow former ex-pat) who exhibits what, this year, has turned out to be a nasty case of an affliction many here will easily relate to. Martin is a Leicester City fan. According to Wikipedia, Leicester are currently one of only five clubs (the others being Manchester United, Manchester City, Chelsea and Liverpool) to have won the Premier League, FA Cup and League Cup in the 21st century. So they must be one of the sports powerhouse sides then, right? We would soon discover whether they were or not.
I’m not suggesting that many other loyal readers are also Foxes fans. Heaven forbid! Merely that a lot of us suffer from long-standing club affiliations that sometimes seem to serve us up very little in the way of positives. As the football fan’s well-worn aphorism says:
“It’s the hope that kills you”.*
The fascinating website ‘Learn English Through Football’ explained the phrase for the uninitiated, 13 years ago almost to the day, albeit a little long-windedly. Though that’s an aspect of communication that often appeals to me – as I hardly need tell YOU. Martin, and others, take note!
‘… having no expectations or hopes may be better as your dreams may not be destroyed in a cruel manner. Before an important match, supporters are hoping that their team does well: they want them to win, to qualify for the Champions League or to stay up and avoid relegation. However, fans know that their team may not be good enough or that they need to rely on another team or sometimes a bit of luck to help them. This gives fans hope and allows them to dream. However, this optimistic feeling can be destroyed by a bad decision, poor play or bad luck leaving the fans’ dreams in tatters.’ https://languagecaster.com/football-cliche-its-the-hope-that-kills-you/
Messing about on the river
Your Fabulous Football Pharaoh felt FUL-ly at home. Right: a photo from before construction began...
🎵 "When the weather is fine then you know it's a sign / For messing about on the river.
If you take my advice there's nothing so nice / As messing about on the river."🎵 Unless, perhaps, you're a Leicester fan?
I think the best-selling American novelist, Stephen King, captured the essence of the above pleasantry pithily for us footie fans (however unintentionally and/or tangentially that might have been) in ‘Joyland’ (2013): 'You think Okay, I get it, I'm prepared for the worst, but you hold out that small hope, see, and that's what f*cks you up. That's what kills you.' It could so easily be a line from his 1982 novella 'Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption', later famously adapted for screen as 'The Shawshank Redemption' (1994). What Morgan Freeman actually says to Tim Robbins in that film, however, as the "lifer" character Red, speaking to fellow (innocent) inmate Andy Dufresne is: "Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane." And, in a football context at least, he's not wrong. Although Andy fundamentally and philosophically disagrees with him. In the letter he later writes to his old buddy he tells him, 'Remember, Red: hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.' And, eventually, we're allowed to watch Red change his own view to match that of his friend, in the very last lines of the movie:
"I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head... I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope..."
It's fairly obvious to me that neither of them had ever been a football fan. For, while Coventry City and Luton Town will meet in the Championship play-off final on Saturday week, for the right to return to English football's top flight (in a game estimated to be worth no less than £135 million to the winning side and often referred to as "the most valuable single fixture in world club football - an obvious over-simplification) and as Manchester City sit just three games away from securing "a famous and historic Treble", there are other clubs with far less welcome "problems" and obstacles.
Let’s kick-off then (pun intended) with some of the more mundane logistical details - though they had seemed quite important at the time. And then we can illustrate some of those problems, as we go along. Martin and I met up at 12.30pm on Bank Holiday Monday, May 8th, in the Blue Boat. It’s NOT actually a boat, but a new(ish) Fullers pub, housed in a sparkling new-build development on Fulham Reach. Martin worked for Fuller, Smith and Turner for several years, after he’d left Guinness, before their brewing interests were ‘sold to the Japanese international beverage giant Asahi’ in 2019 - and he was made redundant. Again! So he knows his way around the area - and knew to book a table well in advance. The place was officially, and quite properly, match-day "busy".
Before the game, Martin had been spending the previous few weeks at his static caravan in Cornwall, soaking up some setting Western rays and walking his ageing canine companions. Until he got the match ticket call from me, at which point his plans suddenly and dramatically changed. I mention these background domestic details purely to illustrate the nature of life’s strange patterns and symmetries. After all, I’d been able to offer Martin his ticket to ride only because another buddy (season ticket holder Graham - “Plumber to the stars” - and thanks again for the loan of your tickets, Graham!) was making his own annual holiday pilgrimage to…
yes, you guessed it – Cornwall! When I sent Martin a WhatsApp message with my initial invite, he almost had my hand off. The chance to see his side battle bravely for EPL survival, live at one of the UK's finest sports venues, was an unrivalled offer more than worthy of a break from his Cornish sojourn. Or so he apparently thought. He would be one of just 24,442 folk able to share in that privilege. Although that number will go up next season (see below).
In his pre-match warm-up, Martin started off with the house lager, “Frontier” (‘a memorable beer with citrus and spicy notes, a light fizzy body and a clean refreshing taste’, according to the RateBeer website) before progressing to Guinness, as he got fully up to warp speed. Whereas I had a wettener of the house ale (London Pride – whose name was a portent, I hoped, of things to come on the pitch, later – 🎵 “I live by The River!”🎵 ) before moving onto the colour-coordinated Black (and white) Stuff for the rest of the day. Incidentally, our drinks (and later our food) were served to us by a student and wannabee actress, from a small and exotic island off the Mexican mainland. It sounded like it could be the very place where Red and Andy had ended up. And was an indicator ("live" and in the moment) that London remains a truly cosmopolitan city, despite the best efforts (so far) of those behind what many now refer to, openly, as the UK’s BrExit shambles.
Sweet dreams are made of this?
After a lazy, boozy lunch (“disappointing” Fish and Chips for Martin, excellent slow-cooked lamb neck with modern Fulham's typical, aspirational, middle-class veg for me, and followed for us both by sticky toffee pudding with posh ice cream – my older brother, Kevin, joined us for a beer, towards the end, declining the generous offer of a second dessert spoon) we then took one of the two very best pre-match walks in all of professional sport, let alone just English football. We set off at about 2.30pm for a three o’clock kick-off. Martin had originally hoped to see the Leicester players warming up (and to give them some abuse). Until it was pointed out to him that he would be at the wrong end of the ground – and that it might be a dead give-away to the match stewards that he was an away fan in the wrong end. And anyway, the understandably slow matchday service in the pub meant we weren’t embarrassed by a surfeit of spare time.
Kevin is a season ticket holder and a Fulham fan of over 50 years standing (I know, right?!). He's also one of the main reasons why I'm also a club fan and have had to endure the majority of my own 45-years plus love affair in the lower divisions. That's to say him, Sir Bobby Moore, George Best, Rodney Marsh and others - plus my free school train travel pass, originally intended primarily for reaching The Salesian College, in Battersea, just across the river. Strolling south down the north bank of the Thames the three of us (and many others) enjoyed seeing UK professional football’s newest stand rise up impressively in front of us, leaning out above the river, as the slow-moving crowd grew increasingly dense(!). At this point, nudged by brief mention of London’s sewage-filled river, an eco-diversion may be in order. I will ask you the question: “How Green is my [Thames] Valley” – and you may answer it by perusing the rarely viewed ranking of Premier League club sustainability scores here.
Although Fulham FC don’t soar proudly like eagles in this list, seemingly dabbling with eco-relegation in fact, within the week it would turn out that Southampton’s Premier League status was less sustainable than their rating in this table might have suggested. One of their disgruntled fans, “Laurie”, later derided on the BBC Sport website their ‘Manager mayhem mess, players that would have made better surfers and a transfer window suitable for "over the park" football… utter shame’. Would it be harsh to offer them an anagram, in response?
Taken while the latter could still manage a smile...
Just another Manic Monday
It would turn out to be a Mad Monday of (sometimes) unpredictable relegation-related footie, with 21 goals scored/conceded in just three games, scheduled for the benefit of professional football’s demanding TV paymasters. Kevin had predicted a 2-0 home win. And, in some ways, that turned out to have been a decent suggestion. I was more sanguine. Fulham had, after all, lost three of their previous four matches at home. Including the previous one against 12-man Manchester City (see more on this below) which I'd also attended, along with my son, Callum - who's merely a part-time Fulham fan. Long story! Martin and I would end up seeing eight of that day's 21 EPL goals live and in the flesh – plus a penalty miss!
The first came as early as the 10th minute when the Foxes' 'keeper, Iversen, failed to judge the flight of a Willian free-kick from wide on Fulham's left - only to see it go "through" him and bounce into the far, bottom corner. Things never improved much for the visitors after that point. And, at times, got considerably worse. Suffice to say that one of the pair of us went home rather happier than the other. After the game had ended, we also went on to half-watch the two evening fixtures, in various pubs around Hammersmith. Witnessing Leicester slide inexorably into the Relegation Zone. I won’t bore you with the minutiae of the game. You can check those out on many of your favourite sports websites. Fulham took a 4-0 lead against hapless opponents before seeming to lose their hunger, just when a proper thrashing seemed on the cards. The final score of (High Five) 5-3 was flattering to the visitors. But we did at least see former England international striker, Jamie Vardy, (partner of Ms Wagatha Christie) miss that first penalty kick (of TWO, softly awarded to the visitors). One to tell the grand-children about, maybe.
While Martin and I contemplated this Big Question, we felt the least we could do was to assiduously help support the UK economy for several more hours. Before finally deciding its redemption probably needed more hands to the pump – at which point we finally headed for Hammersmith tube and our respective homes, suitably “refreshed”. And not before we’d added the Duke of Cambridge, The William Morris, The Swan and The Tortilla to our cultural tour itinerary. I later discovered that somebody marginally more famous even than me had been doing their own Guinness pub crawl, on their way TOWARDS a football stadium, simultaneously to us enjoying our own whilst travelling AWAY from Craven Cottage. JJ Watt (retired three-time NFL defensive player of the year) was getting to know, up close and personal, fans of the side recently confirmed as second tier Champions, and promoted to play Fulham next season in the Premier League - where he has made a minority investment. See link here.
Incidentally, those other televised games affecting the relegation outcome saw an entirely unexpected 1-5 away win for The Toffees at The Amex and saw Forest edge Southampton in a seven-goal Thriller, despite a last-gasp Ward-Prowse penalty conversion. The Everton result was particularly mystifying since, as the BBC Sport website observed: ‘…prior to kick-off you would have had to trawl down to the 8th tier of English football to find a club with fewer league goals than Everton's 27 this season.’ Many thanks go to Bob May for sharing that tantalising stat detail.
Later, Martin’s taxi driver [no, NOT Robert De Niro / Travis Bickle – “You talkin’ to me?”] commiserated with him on his way home, telling him ‘it wouldn’t be sport if your team won every game’. It’s a fair point. But most fans would happily take seeing their club win a few MORE games, at least. They might even be prepared to risk the supposed frustrations of seeing them win EVERY game. Though it’s certainly reassuring to have one of mankind’s great philosophers sharing their wisdom, whilst driving you home from the station.
In his post-match interview on MotD, Leicester's James Maddison gave the distinct impression that his agent might already have been busy lining him up for another job elsewhere. Or booking his summer surfing holiday. Once you have an England World Cup campaign on your CV, a lot of new doors / escape hatches can be opened up to you.
Leicester fan perspectives on their current debacle that I've come across range from a simple unexpected under-performance of key players (the squad includes SEVEN who were on show at the latest World Cup finals tournament), to boardroom ineptitude in handling people changes in the role of first team coach / manager, to simple financial expediency - i.e. if a "smaller" club cannot afford to continue sitting at table with the bigger boys, then it must re-cut its cloth accordingly and live with the (inevitable) consequences. Although, if the latter really IS one of the primary causes, the fans would probably appreciate a bit more respect in terms of transparency in communication from those in the boardroom.
[Chorus] He’s me pal, he’s me pal...
Why do we fans ("We few, we happy few, we band of brothers"**) still studiously plan our diaries in order get along to watch our club's games live and in person? After all, wall-to-wall EPL coverage on TV nowadays allows us access to most fixtures from the mid-winter warmth and comfort of our homes, with ready access to plentiful food and drinks without the queueing and the reduced risk of catching a virus. And also without having to wait and stand in line in a river of urine to take a turn at the black-and-white troughs in the Gents toilets. It's all a far cry from the shaggy-haired, long-sideburned, flared-trousered, platform-soled hooligan-friendly days of 1976, when I started my pilgrimages to The Cotttage; and 1972, when Kevin started his. Surely it's as much for the friendship, camaraderie, sociability, herd mentality and sheer exuberance of the live matchday experience, as it is for the football itself. For fans of Leicester City this season (and Southampton, and others) that surely MUST be the case.
I take the liberty of digressing here briefly (it's my only weakness!) to reflect upon the nature of watching live football with an opposition fan. Unless you smugly follow one of the much-vaunted Big Clubs, regardless of how distant their location is to where you grew up or now live, you will probably have experienced the nerve-jangling end of season meat-grinder we call Relegation. It’s been a recent biennial activity for Fulham FC and its fans. But fully TEN of the Premier League’s 22 founding clubs (neither Fulham nor Leicester were amongst them, incidentally) no longer currently ply their trade in that top flight. One of them, Oldham, no longer do so within any of the top four flights of the English game). And another of those 22, Southampton, have already confirmed their demotion to the second tier for next season, since the Fulham-Leicester game. Coincidentally via a 0-2 home defeat to Fulham FC, the next Saturday. Meanwhile, Sheffield United have confirmed their return to the Premier League and Coventry City (see above) have a 50-50 chance of doing the same. BOTH were founder members, back in 1992.
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So it should be easy for most of us to be empathetic with Martin’s plight. I know I was. He wanted to be at the game, to experience how the players were reacting (professionally and positively?) to relegation pressures. But did he really? I wanted Fulham to win. Ideally by a hat-full of goals (at 4-0, and later at 5-1, with 20+ minutes still remaining, that was looking pretty likely). But doing so could easily have made for a frosty post-match atmosphere, even between long-standing friends. Though neither of us could have much direct impact on the actual score-line, of course. I won't even get into the thorny, rightful and ethical issue of whether one should EVER sneak an away fan into your home end (NOT a euphemism!). Suffice to say that I didn't let Martin's presence curtail my personal enjoyment of The Communal Singing - I use that last word only in a very loose sense - or of the game in general. Although my attitude might have been different if, say, Leicester had brought their trapdoor-avoiding "A"-game and trounced us.
Professional English football's oldest surviving stand (The "Johnny Haynes", left) and its newest (the imaginatively-named Riverside, right - not yet even fully opened). The famous Craven Cottage is in the far corner, to the left of the 4-0 score-line on the large screen.
So what’s the best balance, when you bring a friend to the game who supports the opposition and wants to see them win? Apparently it’s a 5-3 home win. Happiness for the home fan (though not exactly ecstasy); sadness for away fan (though not dismal desperation). Almost a relief that we didn't beat them by more. Almost. We’d both hoped for a good, competitive game. But for long periods Leicester seemed incapable of helping to deliver that. As I sat finishing my final, final edit, The Foxes were busy losing 0-3 in a potentially season-defining home fixture against the 2019–20 Premier League Champions, and six-time European Champions and recent Eurovision hosts, Liverpool. That was exactly two years to the day since The Foxes had beaten Chelsea 1-0 to lift the FA Cup at Wembley. Albeit that was in front of a Covid-affected reduced attendance of just 20,000 spectators. The since much diminished influence of midfielder Youri Tielemans was critical that day. He finished as the man-of-the-match and the only goal scorer. Against Fulham, by contrast, he was largely ineffective and was substituted off for Ndid, on the hour mark. After which, Leicester seemed to finally get a foothold in the game.
Whereas Fulham’s away win at Southampton the following Saturday secured for them a club record number of wins and left them just two points off a record points haul in a Premier League season (with two fixtures still remaining). With the added bonus of simultaneously relegating a Prime Minister, which not many clubs can reasonably claim. We may not be qualifying for Europe this time (which may be no bad thing). But we should/could finish the season ahead of our upstart neighbours in blue. Which will make for a relatively smug summer break. It’s possible I may have mentioned in previous match-day coverage that Fulham FC is London’s oldest professional football club.
"Rockin' All Over the World"
The Status Quo, all in double-denim, on the cover of their 1976 ninth studio album: 'Blue for You'. Being fellow South Londoners, that album title should NOT be mistaken for a covert assertion of their affiliation to Leicester City FC. But it might suggest some empathy with the plight of that club's fans. They are one of the world's few rock bands who can rival The Johnny Haynes stand for age, persistence and longevity. Their 1997 hit, 'Rockin' All Over the World', was used to open the July 1985 Live Aid concert, at Wembley Stadium. It has since been widely adopted, as the basis of witty chants, by the fans of football clubs across Europe - and Wales.
Meanwhile there’s the small matter of Sky Sports "Save of the Season" to consider and celebrate, fronted by the artist formerly known as Calamity James. Who do you reckon should be the clear and obvious winner? Alisson? Nope. Pickford? Nope. Ramsdale? Nope. Pope? Nope. [but a contender for the world’s shortest ever poem, incidentally] Sá? Nope. MartÃnez? Nope. Fabianski? Nope. Raya? Nope. De Gea? Nope. Ederson? Nope. Do you give up yet? Here’s a clue: 🎵"We've got Super Bernd Leno in goal!" (to the tune of Quo's 'Rockin' All Over the World', of course).
Leno's ruthlessly efficient, quick-response effort to keep out "The Best Player in the World" (Man City’s Ice Monster) in our previous home game (our final game of April, which I also attended) was quite exceptional. Even David James thought so. And, as Max Boyce might have said, "I was there!" Right behind the goal at The Hammersmith End, with a perfect view of it. With Cal! See Sky Sports link here.
That was just one of a plethora of top class saves that easily earned Berndt the Man-of-the-Match award in a game where we gave the Champions-elect a proper run for their money and might have got a point or more, if they hadn't brought their own ref. with them. Again. I'd been looking forward to seeing THEIR ginger Iniesta up against ours (Reed vs. De Bruyne). After all, that's another one of the reasons we go to the games, innit? To see our boys competing against the very best in world football. So, of course, I was disappointed KDB didn't play. Although, on the other hand...
I was also disappointed to see Haaland score teh opening goal. Especially by converting such a "soft" first-minute penalty award. Albeit he did take it well against perhaps the most under-rated (or simply invisible?) GK's in the league. I was able to enjoy seeing The Ice Monster up close. And not getting much change out of our make-shift CB pairing, after Ream had gone off with a broken arm. The "Worldie" save he forced from Leno would otherwise have been a goal that would have put the visitors two ahead - and could have led to a very torrid afternoon for us home fans.
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The Ice Monster even came across as a bloke you might get to like. At one point, when the Hammersmith End were again giving him some gyp for NOT scoring against us from open play, he looked up and laughed. Not condescendingly. He was just admiring the humour of the home fans, in the moment. Given that he'd just broken some long-standing scoring record or other, it was a very human touch. And not icy at all. Classy - 'nuff respect! But referees really HAVE handed his team a lot of points for no reason, this season. With and without the "help" of VAR interventions. They beat us home and away by just one goal. Each win secured via a dubious penalty decision. Haaland converted BOTH resulting spot kicks, to add a touch of unwanted symmetry and painful déjà vu.
So, while City may well still have their sights set on The Treble, I hope they'll have the humility to acknowledge the debt they owe to being on the right side of some of the world's most "sympathetic" refereeing, this season. Things could easily have been so VERY different! As, indeed, they might also have been for Leicester City. Although none of the above outcomes is entirely assured. Yet! it ain't COMPLETELY over until the over-sized female starts warming up her tonsils.
We'll finish with a little more of that secular spiritual song referenced in our opening subtitle. It holds such emotional resonance for fans of The Beautiful Game. I offer it in the hope it might be a soothing salve for Martin's miseries - and for those of all other fans who ALREADY know the sad relegation fate of THEIR clubs:
Other Sources:
1) “It’s not the despair, Laura. I can take the despair. It’s the hope I can’t stand."
spoken by John Cleese (as Brian Stimpson in the 1986 comedy movie 'Clockwise';
and then there's the following, rather more complex, earlier variant. Though at heart they share much the same meaning -
2) "Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
spoken by Helena in Shakespeare's 'All's Well That Ends Well', (ACT II, SCENE 1)
** from the "feast of Crispian" speech in Shakespeare's 'Henry V', spoken by King Henry himself.
